


50 Shades of Grayson

by TexMex007



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aliens Still Exist, Alternate Universe - 50 Shades of Grey Fusion, Chess, Dinner dates, F/M, First Meetings, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I blame this on a youtube video i watched that gave me the idea, I swear there is actually a plot, Jim has self-worth issues, Jim is a pretty boy, Jim is too nice, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Pon Farr, San Francisco, Seriously they're all so cute and perf, Spock in a suit, Spock's got a strong hold of his Human side, Suave Spock, T'hy'la, Virgin!Jim, Vulcan, and Bones and Gaila, and Chekov and Sulu, and then it turns into something more, borderline sugardaddy!Spock, experienced!Spock, healthy dosage of jealousy and possessiveness, you will probably cringe with how cute scotty and Uhura are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexMex007/pseuds/TexMex007
Summary: Jim Kirk is many things-he's loyal, intelligent, handsome (so his Mama says anyway), and most prominently, he's a good friend. When a sick Chekov asks him to cover for him and give an interview to the CEO of Grayson Incorporated, he agrees. What he didn't agree to (although he's definitely not complaining) was the intensity and attention of the mysterious Mr. Grayson- a Vulcan with a Human last name and a penchant for staring into his soul.





	1. Telescope - Starset

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't own anything but my bones."
> 
> No but seriously, I own nothing, just out here writing things I probably shouldn't.
> 
> This all started because I came across a fan trailer for 50 Shades of Grey revolving around Spirk, with and well, I am prone to making questionable decisions but to be fair, I've not seen this AU for this pairing and my brain wasn't going to let me just let it go until I wrote something down. It's basically the introduction scene in 50 Shades, but with obvious tweaking and some obvious altercations to Majors regarding college. I tried to avoid going too OOC (but if it still feels way too OOC then I don't blame you and I apologize). Jim is in school still, Spock is an enigma (with reasons; if I continue this then I'd delve into it all but this is just the First Meetings), and now I'm rambling.
> 
> If anything, at least now it's out of my head, and I hope you can find some enjoyment from it.

A chipper tune sounded from Jim's phone as he stared at his laptop screen, words bumping together as he tried to finish his Galaxy Literature essay. Vulcan literature was a little dry for his tastes, but he had to admit there was a subtle beauty found in the frank texts. He blinked slowly before leaning back in his chair and answered with a forced “Hello?”

 

“Jimothy!” Pavel wailed, his voice keening and needy, “I need a favor.”

 

Jim sighed, spinning a little in his chair, “Why not ask Sulu?”

 

He closed his eyes, visualizing the other younger man's pout as he sulkily replied, “Karu’s got his parents coming into town. I swear, it won't interfere with your work schedule. It's a day thing only.”

 

Jim held back a sigh, “Alright, I'll bite.” he answered breezily, “What's this favor?”

 

“I need you to fill in for me for an assignment,” Pavel explained before adding quickly, “it’s nothing too grand, just a teensy-weensy interview.”

 

Jim narrowed his eyes, “a 'teensy-weensy’ interview, huh? And why can't you do this?”

 

“I'm sick Jay,” Pavel whined, adding to his cause by coughing into the phone, “I swear to you, if you follow through I'll owe you big time.”

 

“Mhmm…” Jim drawled, “and who am I supposed to be interviewing?”

 

“You're the best SlimJim,” Pavel cooed before answering, “his name is Spock Grayson. I'll forward you the interview questions and the directions.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Jim quipped, “and Pasha?”

 

“Yeah?” he croaked. He smiled into the receiver,

 

“Feel better soon.”

 

“Thanks Jimmy.”

 

He hung up and swiveled around in his chair for a bit longer before facing his laptop again, hands hovering over the keyboard with renewed determination to finish his work. His fingers itched to look up the man in question, but he batted the desire away.

 

He hadn't thought to look up Mr. Grayson until the day before the interview, when Pavel’s assignment and address arrived in his inbox. Turns out, Mr. Grayson, despite the last name, was Vulcan-well, half Vulcan. The last name was apparently his Mother's maiden name that he'd decided to keep.

 

Regardless, this Mr. Grayson was Vulcan enough that you could tell at a glance, and a hot Vulcan at that. Jim had to admit, even though he hadn't planned on taking the time to do someone else's homework, but he didn't mind one bit.

 

After a quick shower, Jim stood in front of his mirror, checking his hair before shrugging on his leather jacket and grabbing the keys to his bike, messenger bag slapping comfortably against his hip as he exited his apartment.

 

The drive wasn't too far into the city, only about a 15 minute commute, and as he drove his mind became pleasantly blank as he concentrated on the wind whipping past his helmet and the road in front of him. As he pulled up to the building he eyed the decal above the front doors, reading 'Grayson House’ in bold, severe letters.

 

The building itself was just as severe as the lettering; severe yet simple Jim noticed as he parked his bike and stowed his helmet. Very Vulcan, he mused as he walked inside, passing through a security checkpoint scanner as he made his way inside. He glanced over to see a pretty young thing in her mid twenties, probably no older than him, sitting gracefully at a reception desk, her eyes snapping up to his as he approached.

 

“Hello there,” he offered a wave, “I've got an appointment with Mr. Grayson for 11 O'clock?”

 

She nodded primly, “Mr. Chekov?”

 

He nodded before remembering that wasn't his name and opened his mouth to correct her, but before he could get a word out she began pointing to a nearby elevator, 

 

“Take it to the floor 9.”

 

He clamped his mouth shut before proceeding into the elevator and pressing the button, mildly amused that the elevator music was actually classical music instead of jaunty current pop song instrumental covers or smooth jazz.

 

Once he exited the elevator another young woman, just as proper as the first, approached from around a corner ushering him to follow her with a warm, “Mr. Grayson will see you now.”

 

Jim pulled out the interview questions from his bag as he silently followed the sound of her heels clicking across the marble floors before blurting out the first thing that came across his mind.

 

“So you got any sage advice?” He inquired, causing her to turn her head.

 

“I'm sorry?” she cocked her head, not a single hair falling out of place from her neat bun.

 

“I mean, do you think I'll be alright? Is-is there anything I should do to earn his good graces?” Jim clarified, enjoying the spark of amusement lighting up her green eyes. She blatantly looked him up and down before offering a coy smile,

 

“Oh, trust me when I say I think you'll be just fine.”

 

Was that.. a come-on? Or was this about something he wasn't privy to? Before he could ask, she moved to open the door to what Jim could only guess was Mr. Grayson's office.

 

Jim quickly waved her off, shooting her a wink. He missed the smirk flicker across her face as he pushed the heavy looking doors. Except, they weren't heavy. 

 

They were perfectly light, despite their massive size. He realized this too late as he went barreling into the room, his messenger bag throwing off his balance as he sprawled to the floor on his hands and knees, a soft “oof” escaping his lips.

 

He quickly glanced up to see the silhouette of a tall, sleek backside before Mr. Grayson turned from his spot at the window and raised a brow at him. Jim swallowed, frozen to the spot as the Vulcan stepped away from behind his desk and quickly approached him.

 

Spock stared at the stranger donned in a slimming dark pair of jeans, sleek leather jacket, and dark yellow mustard shirt that brought out the vivid electric blue of the dirty blond’s eyes.

 

_ 'He’s stellar. If I touch him, will he burn me? Consume me whole with the gravity of a supernova, while he's on his hands and knees?’ _

 

Spock batted the thought away as he called out to the man.

 

“Mr. Chekov?”

 

Jim winced as he felt those intense, burnt umber eyes rake across him as he scrambled to stand up.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Uh- yes, er, yes Sir.” Jim replied quickly, straightening his jacket and readjusting the strap of his bag. Those eyes took a second longer to linger on his body before flicking up to meet his. Not that Jim was paying attention- he'd never been this up close to such an obviously expensive suit,  _ and a well tailored one at that _ .

 

“Spock Grayson.” Spock offered, one hand coming from behind his back to shake as what he knew was Human custom, and since he was feeling rather intrigued at the moment, he saw no harm in indulging just this once.

 

Jim eyes widened at the bizarre behavior, arm moving on it's own as he instead offered the Ta’al instead, albeit clumsily, with a spluttered,

 

“I get you’re probably used to having to do that but it's okay, I'm not going to make you. So, hi-I'm, uh, I'm actually Jim Kirk.”

 

_ 'Jim Kirk?’ not 'Pavel Chekov’? Why hadn't I been notified?’ _

 

For the briefest of moments, Jim could've sworn he saw bemusement in those sharp eyes as Jim clung to his bag strap and papers,

“I tried to tell your workers, but I kinda got herded in here faster than I could explain,” he took a deep breath,

 

“You see, Pasha- Pavel Chekov, I mean, is my friend and he's sick, so I volunteered to take his place.”

 

“That is altruistic of you.” Spock replied, offering the Ta’al in return before fastening his hands behind his back.

 

“Well, we're friends, and being my friend has its perks.” Jim replied with a grin as he watched Spock tilt his head at him, like he were a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

 

“I take it you're also studying Journalism then?”

 

“Ah, no,” Jim breathed an airy chuckle, “I'm a Xenolinguistics Lit major.”

 

“Indeed?” Spock nodded to the direction of the chairs situated near his desk as he continued talking, silently beckoning Jim to follow, “Did you come across the custom of offering the Ta’al in your studies then, Mr. Kirk?”

 

Jim watched him sink into his chair and cross his legs with a fluidity that made his mouth water, and he swallowed hard as his brain rushed to register the question. It wasn't his fault if the man's charcoal suit stood out so well against the maroon leather chair.

 

“Y-yes Sir,” he replied after tearing his eyes away from that carnal suit, sinking into his own chair. He chuckled, “actually this week I've been going over Vulcan literature-” he glanced up to lock eyes with the CEO, “crazy coincidence, amiright?”

 

Jim didn't know what he was expecting exactly. One second he was smiling at the brunette in front of him and the next he was clenching the papers in his hands as the man stared at him with enough intensity to make his heart stop.

 

“Indeed. If this wasn't strictly an interview, I would inquire after what you've read. However,” There was a brief pause before Mr. Grayson checked his watch, “I've only got twenty-two point 5 minutes to spare, so if you would?” he tilted his head again, gesturing to the papers in Jim's lap.

 

“Y-yes of course,” Jim nodded quickly, settling his clipboard with the interview questions on his lap before shucking off his jacket, too busy trying to find a pencil in his bag to notice inquisitive eyes roaming over his bare arms and torso.

 

' _ Not only is he luminous like a star, but he appears to be quite strong too.’  _ Spock noted as he watched the muscles in Jim's arms shift under tan skin, ' _ If I bedded him, I wonder how long he'd last?' _

 

“Aw heck, c’mon where are you…” Jim murmured to himself as he rummaged through his bag, nervousness rising as he continued searching.

 

The sound of Mr. Grayson clearing his throat made him quickly look up to see the man offer him a pencil, perfectly sharpened, from off his desk. Jim shot him a sheepish smile,

 

“Thank you.” Jim murmured, careful to avoid brushing fingers with the man. Despite Mr. Grayson's obvious disregard for his own personal space exhibited by his outstretched hand from earlier, Jim felt determined to honor him by upholding that cultural norm.

 

As he watched his guest try so hard not to broach his personal space, the urge to touch grew a little stronger, much to Spock’s amusement. He didn't crave touch as a general rule, but this man was proving to be quite the temptation. It sent a little thrill through him, this imbalance, reminding him that he was indeed half Human.

 

“Do you often speak to inanimate objects as a whole, or only to those you are searching for?” Mr. Grayson asked, his voice taking on a slight lilt that sounded an awful lot like  _ humor. _

 

Jim grinned sheepishly down at the recorder as he pulled it out and rested it on the arm of the chair.

 

“I talk to inanimate objects all the time,” Jim laughed with a small shake of his head, “it's a terrible habit I picked up from my Mom. Can't seem to break it- illogical, huh?”

 

He dared to meet the brunet’s eyes and was surprised to see an almost soft look in them. As soon as it registered, the look was gone.

 

_ ‘Huh’ _

 

“However illogical it may be, if it does not negatively interfere with the overall quality of your life, then I see no reason to 'break it’ as you put it.” Mr. Grayson checked his watch again, before gesturing to the recorder, “whenever you are ready, Mr. Kirk.”

 

“Call me Jim, please.” Jim blurted as he fiddled with the recorder. Spock didn't answer, and Jim took that moment of silence to press the button to record and cleared his throat before announcing, “This is Jim Kirk, with Grayson Incorporated CEO Mr. Grayson,” he glanced up and smiled at the Vulcan as he continued, “thank you for taking the time to sit down to this interview.”

 

“Of course,” Mr. Grayson replied severely, “whatever I can do to aid the progression of a student's education.”

 

Jim swallowed before flicking his gaze down at the paper. “The first question the Student newspaper has for you is: you are quite young to have amassed such a grand empire,” Jim mentally rolled his eyes at the wording, “to what do you owe your success?”

 

Spock raised a brow as if he agreed with Jim's sentiments but answered nonetheless in the same melodic, cool tone he'd spoken with earlier,

 

“Business is about forging significant relationships with others that foster trust, mutual respect, and encourage both parties to aim for said 'success’.” Spock answered, “I am well versed at forming such relations, given that I am adept at what motivates Human behavior, as I am half Human.”

 

“So would you say you know what makes people tick?” Jim inquired, thoughtlessly pausing to push the eraser against his mouth- another bad habit he'd picked up from his Mom. He glanced up when the man didn't say anything to see those dark eyes locked on his lips, his clean shaven jaw tense for a second until his gaze flicked up to meet his own.

 

_ 'Oh Mr. Kirk,’  _ Spock mused lazily as he memorized the exact hue of pink Kirk's lips were,  _ 'I wonder what kinds of noises I could procure from that mouth of yours- I hope you're a screamer.’ _

 

Jim felt vaguely aware of a blush crawling up his neck as he lowered the pencil and gripped it hard as Mr. Grayson answered in a slightly strained voice,

 

“Yes, I believe that is an accurate application of the saying. Also,” Jim watched him shifted minutely in his seat, back still ramrod straight but now he was leaning forward slightly, “another contributing factor of my success is also due to my ability to seek out and harness the power of worthy and properly talented individuals who show potential to benefit this company.”

 

“That sounds like it requires a great deal of control.” Jim replied as nonchalantly as his pounding heart would allow, leaning back in his chair to throw his arm over the unoccupied arm rest. The adjustment made his shirt ride up slightly, revealing only a hint of his hip. Once again, Mr. Greyson’s eyes drifted to his body once more, lingering a second on the exposed strip of flesh before Jim quickly pulled his shirt down.

 

They locked eyes again as the CEO slowly replied, “I find it prudent to exercise control in all things, as is the Vulcan way.”

 

_ 'Fuck, that's hot’ _

 

“Cool.” Jim rasped before barreling on to the next question, “uh, er, so you mainly deal with telecommunication, but you also invest in publishing scientific research and exploration, especially regarding deep space. Is this something you…”

 

He trailed off, not knowing how to rephrase the question without potentially coming off as offensive. In the end, he just asked it as it was on the paper, making a show of raising the paper up to his face to read,

 

“Is this, uh, space exploration and scientific research, something you feel passionate about?”

 

Mr. Grayson cocked his head, raising an eyebrow as he gauged Jim. “It is the Vulcan way to aid in the accumulation of galactic knowledge.”

 

Jim frowned slightly- yeah, that was nice and all, and he could even argue that Humans had the same drive, but he wanted to know about  _ Spock- _ er,  _ Mr. Grayson. _

 

“I find that to be an admirable trait of your people, Sir.” Jim replied carefully, silently savoring the slight furrow of the Vulcan’s brows as he continued, “However, that is of your people- and this interview is about you. So, uh, may I ask again: is this something _ you _ feel passionate about, Mr. Grayson?”

 

Spock opened his mouth, only to close it. He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest whisper of a smile.

 

_ 'So the star has some strength after all.’ _

 

“To put it succinctly, yes. And you?”

 

Jim blinked owlishly before offering Spock a grin, “I love space,” he declared, eyes shifting away to the questionnaire, a chuckle bubbling up his throat.

 

“Please enlighten me as to what you find humorous.”

 

Jim leaned into the side of his chair, legs splaying open, “You want to know what I'm thinking?”

 

“Yes.” Spock prided himself on his control; it would be rather tempting to stare at such blatant flirtatious body language. Was this on purpose, or was this another supposed accident of Mr. Kirk? Either way, as tempting as it was, Spock kept his eyes on the prize, holding Jim's gaze.

 

“It’s just that many would not be able to wrap their head around the concept of a Vulcan having ‘passions’.”

 

“Do you include yourself in that claim?” Mr. Grayson asked nonchalantly, but Jim felt he could see some sort tension coiling in the man.

 

“No,” Jim replied, pitch dropping slightly as he peered into Spock’s unwavering gaze, “I think based on what you've given me, it's quite obvious you're a passionate man.”

 

“My colleagues would disagree.” 

 

“Maybe they don't know you as well as they think.”

 

“Bold, coming from a stranger such as yourself. We've never met before-if we had, I would've surely remembered.” There it was, that trickle of humor leaking through the CEO’s words again that had Jim grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Really?” and no, Jim did not sound  _ smug. _

 

“Yes. I have eidetic memory.”

 

“Right,” Jim drawled, glancing away as he smothered his disappointment. “I’ll stand by my claim nonetheless. I'm what you'd call a quick study when it comes to reading people, it comes with my job.”

 

“Pray tell, what is your job?” Spock inquired.

 

“I'm a bartender.” Jim chirped, mimicking the brunet’s body posture, one leg crossed over the other. Then, without missing a beat, he asked the next question,

 

“So, do you have any particular activities you like to indulge in outside of work?”

 

“I enjoy various physical and mental pursuits.” Spock answered, tilting his head as he watched Jim watch him.

 

“Such as?” Jim inquired, tone innocent and light.

 

“Martial arts, going on walks, running, playing Chess, and meditation.” Spock replied, not missing the way Jim's eyes lit up at the mention of Chess.

 

_ 'Aesthetics and Intelligence? Aren't you a fun one?’ _

 

Jim raised a brow at the next question, “The next question the newspaper has is, uh, Mr. Grayson, are you…?” He ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at the question. 

 

What kind of people were running the show over at the newspaper editorial?

 

“Am I…?” Spock raised a brow, watching him mess up his hair with mild disappointment- even messed up Jim's hair looked aesthetically pleasing.

 

“They want to know about your sexual orientation.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah, look, you don't have to answer-”

 

“I'm attracted to Men,” Spock answered flippantly, “is that all?”

 

“Uh, yes Sir.” Jim cleared his throat, nearly dropping the recorder as he pressed the 'end’ button in shaking hands. So  _ that's _ what the attendant meant when she said Jim would do just fine.

 

“Spock.” Spock was leaning forward now into his space, hands clenched tightly atop his knee as he watched Jim pack.

 

Jim furrowed his brows, “Huh?”

 

The door to the office opened and Jim whirled his head around to see an attendant lean in,

 

“Mr. Grayson, your meeting-”

 

“Cancel my meeting, please.” Spock ordered without hesitation. The woman nodded and slipped back out the double doors as quickly as she'd appeared.

 

“You told me to call you 'Jim’ earlier.” Spock continued as if the woman had never interrupted them and Jim slowly turned back to face him, “I would appreciate it if you called me by my first name as well.”

 

“No more ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Grayson’ then?” Jim joked as he watched Spock stand up with the same grace he'd demonstrated earlier when he'd first sat down.

 

“As polite as the other two titles are, I prefer you call me by my first name. It feels like you've earned it, yet I struggle with knowing I didn't quite earn the privilege to call you by your given name.” Spock paused, watching Jim stand up before taking a step forward into the slightly shorter man's space, “I'd like to earn it.”

 

“You'd… like to earn it?” Jim tilted his head up at Spock, “You don't have to-”

 

“You've gotten to know a little of me, Mr. Kirk. I'd like to get to know you as well.”

 

_ 'Oh’ _

 

“Well, there's really not much to know.” Jim shrugged as he watched Spock lean against his own desk, still poised.

 

“You said you were a Xenolinguistics Literature major. What made you choose that one in particular?”

 

“It's the only major that would allow me to reach out to other civilizations; I love the idea of building bridges between Humankind and those beyond.”

 

“Like Vulcan?”

 

“Yeah,” Jim breathed, eyes roaming across Spock’s cool façade, “like I said, this week we're going over Vulcan literature.”

 

“What do you think of it?”

 

Jim gave him a lopsided grin, “I have to admit it's kind of hard to get into, but once I'm in, I enjoy it. Vulcans, from what I've observed, have a particular, refreshing talent for bringing out the beauty in the miniscule details of reality. It makes me want to take a magnifying glass to the Universe.”

 

“Do you read your assignments in their native tongue or do you read translated texts?”

 

“Native.” Jim quipped, “I could read just the English text, but I feel something is always lost in the translation.”

 

Spock raised a brow, “you speak Vulcan?”

 

Jim gave him a coy smile, answering that he, indeed, did speak Vulcan in the CEO'S mother language.

 

“Fascinating.” It slipped out before he could stop it, and really, Spock didn't mind. Seeing Kirk beam at his praise was enough to make up for the slip.

 

“Well,” Spock hummed softly, “I'm pleased my culture has been a positive learning experience; you've obviously taken to heart some of the central Vulcan themes of personal space and avoiding hands.”

 

“W-well, you said so yourself-you’re Vulcan which I know means you're a touch telepath,” Jim murmured, staring down at his shoes, “so hands are sensitive for you. Bottom line is that I'd hate to accidentally bombard you with all these wild emotions inside my mind.”

 

“I think you'll find that like Humans, not all Vulcans are alike.” Spock stated breezily before asking, “Anyway, have you decided what you want to do after graduation?”

 

“Uh…” his brain was still reeling from the multiple meanings Spock’s statement could mean. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, “I’m just trying to get through finals right now.”

 

“And then?” Spock pressed, crossing his arms across his chest, “what will you do?”

 

What a loaded question.

 

Jim blew the breath he'd been holding out with a huff and puffed cheeks, “Well, I was thinking of moving here to San Francisco afterwards with my best friend Bones. My job is here- I work at ‘ _ The Crossroads _ '-and between Bones and I, I think we could manage.”

 

“We offer an excellent internship program,” Spock murmured, “assuming you know more than just English and Vulcan.”

 

“Yes, I do. But um,” Spock watched as Jim bit his lip, gaze slipping away, “I don't think I'd fit in here. I mean, look at me.”

 

Spock furrowed his brows, chocolate eyes holding an unmistakable warmth, “I am.”

 

Uh oh. Jim could feel his face heat up under the taller man's gaze. Time to skedaddle.

 

“I uh, I have to go. I've already intruded enough.” Jim declared, backing towards the door. Spock let him, and followed him out the little foyer where the elevator was.

 

“I enjoyed your company, you were no intrusion at all, I assure you.” Spock murmured into Jim's ear as he leaned around the man and pressed the summoning call button to the elevator.

 

The door opened promptly, and Jim ushered inside, face burning, eyes never leaving Spock’s as the door began to close.

 

“Mr. Kirk-”

 

“Jim.”

 

“Jim.” Spock relented, eyes scanning over the face of his new brilliant acquaintance.

 

“Spock.”

 

The doors closed. Spock walked back to his office before realizing that was the first time Jim had used his given name. A soft warmth enveloped his chest and his ears as he sank back into his chair.

 

_ 'Till we meet again.’ _

 

And there would be an 'again’. There was no way he was going to let Jim just walk out of his life so quickly. At least, not without a single touch.

 


	2. TRNDSTTR - Black Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you came out and encouraged me to continue this, and well... here I am, with a new chapter. I've got a plot idea, and if you're patient, you'll see it unravel with me. Please be patient, and please feel free to keep commenting. I really do love reading your feedback and thoughts, it's better than listening to my anxiety hahahahaha~
> 
> I'm also really, really sorry about the paragraphs- I'm scrambling trying to figure out how to configure them properly so that they're lined nicely but I'm also tearing my hair out trying to figure it out besides just going down one line at a time and tapping the 'space' bar 5 times, so please be patient with me (and if you have tips about that, please share!!)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

     Jim plopped down at his desk with a sigh, carefully pulling the interview papers and tape recorder out of his messenger bag before reaching out for his phone. He stared down at Chekov’s contact information with some hesitance- was Pasha resting? He’d said over the phone that he was sick, so should he wait to call later, or call now? Jim glanced down at the recorder in his hands and the interview questions before placing his phone down. He’d do Chekov another favor and go the extra mile- it wasn’t like he had any pressing plans besides taking his ritual afternoon nap before getting ready for work.

     With that thought, he quickly pulled up a word document and began the process of transcribing the interview with the press of the ‘replay’ button on the recorder. He cringed as he typed, listening to his own voice introduce the CEO and start the interview with that first obnoxiously worded question- did he really sound like that? Tch. He relaxed slightly as Spock’s voice drifted through the speaker with that same melodic, modulated voice. Despite the clarity and accuracy of the recorder, Jim couldn’t help but feel put out- he wanted to see the face that belonged to that voice.

     Shaking his head, he continued to type, pausing the recorder every now and then to catch up and rewind to double-check he’d written the exact phrasing used whenever one of them spoke. He carefully omitted the casual exchange they indulged in during the interview, ears reddening as the back of his mind replayed the event in his mind’s eye- Spock watching him closely, eyes alight with _something_ , compact body rigid and regal as Jim floundered.

     His cheeks felt hot, but he didn’t stop typing. Eventually, the job was done. He gave it a cursory glance over, eyes searching for grammatical errors. He found none, and with that, he saved the document and emailed it to Chekov. Jim grinned to himself as he imagined Pasha’s surprise and patted himself on the back before rising out of his chair, tripping and accidentally toppling over his bag as it rested against the desk on the floor. He leaned down to stand the bag up and blinked as his eyes registered the pencil Spock had given him to write with.

     He carefully picked it up and held it to the light, the grey pencil’s silvery lettering reading “Grayson” in bold, defined letters. A surge of panic washed over him before he mentally slapped himself for it- it was just a pencil, Spock wasn’t going to miss it. He had about four others lined up on his desk anyway, and as far as Spock was concerned, well, he probably didn’t even notice it was gone. He rolled it around in between his pointer finger and thumb, ignoring the tiny voice inside his head trying to say it was a memento. He slid it into a pencil holder on his desk before turning away, cheeks still hot, and raised a brow at the time.

     Work started at 9 o’clock like it did every other night when he worked, which meant he had about 8 hours left until his shift began- just enough time to sleep, grab something to eat, and shower before hitting the road. He stripped down to his briefs before plopping into bed with a loud, long sigh as he settled in. Once comfortable, he set his alarm and closed his eyes, pointedly not thinking about dark eyes or sharp ears.

     When his alarm did go off, he killed it swiftly with a well-placed press of his finger. Once the ringing died down in his ears, he pushed himself up off the bed by his elbows and stretched languidly, arching his back like a cat while he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before plopping back down into the comforting sheets and covers.

     After a second or two, he rolled out of bed and picked up his phone, taking it off the charger to check his notifications. A pleased grin broke out across his face as he stared down at the all caps message Chekov had sent him while he was asleep. His grin grew infinitesimally bigger as his brain registered the fact that once Pasha was better, Jim was getting his own special bottle of high quality Vodka. Although it wasn’t necessary, Jim wasn’t going to turn it down- if his friend wanted to show appreciation, who was he to deny it?

     Jim made quick work in the restroom before padding over to the kitchen of his little one-bedroom apartment, stomach growling as he scanned the contents of his ice box before pulling out ingredients for scrambled eggs. He worked on autopilot as he pulled out a small frying pan and sprayed it with cooking oil before flicking the dial of the old gas burner stove top. Jim watched the light blue flames come to life beneath the burner, a primal part of him relishing the dance of the flames as he let his fingers pass through them, warmth licking his fingertips. He blinked, pulling his hand away and placing the pan down before cracking eggs and whisking them-he would never admit it to anyone, but he felt at home in the kitchen.

     It reminded him of home.

     His Mother, bless her soul, was many things-all wonderful- except a cook. She couldn’t cook for crap, and Jim, well, he liked to eat and could follow instructions. His Mom had said he had a taste for cooking, and he had to admit she was right-he lived for spices, texture, taste. It showed, anyway, as he sprinkled black pepper flecks, salt, and a tiny pinch of red pepper powder into the yolk before dumping it into the frying pan.

     He ate quickly and cleaned up just as quickly before bounding down the hall and into the bathroom for a quick shower, nearly bumping into the wall as he rounded the corner from the kitchen to the bathroom. He laughed at himself as he stripped down and stepped into a hot shower, bringing his toothbrush and toothpaste in with him to kill two birds with one stone. Once he was done he toweled off and dressed up in his bartender outfit of a simple black button-down dress shirt and slacks before slipping into his comfy dark tennis shoes. He paused in front of the mirror, frowning a little at his spiky hair before taking an extra few minutes to towel it off more before combing it so it rested presentably back and off his forehead. He checked his phone a second time after pocketing his wallet and sucked in a breath-yep, it was time to leave for work.

     Jim shot finger guns at his own reflection before grabbing his leather jacket from the closet that he’d worn that morning and swiped his keys off the key ring next to his front door. Without a single look back, he locked it and bounded away toward the parking lot. His bike revved to life like the dreamboat it was, and he peeled off, helmet reflecting the orange street lights above as he left the residential area and took to the highway.

     He passed the Grayson building like he did nearly every other night while on his way to work, but this time as he waited for the light to turn green, he found his eyes glued to the ginormous building. Before this morning, Jim never dreamed that he would one day set foot within the complex. Before this morning, it was simply just another landmark- another building with people, people Jim rationally knew had to exist but didn’t feel like they existed because he’d never seen them before. People like the green-eyed attendant and the guy who waved him through the metal detector-people like Spock.

     Spock.

     Oh, he existed now.

     His eyes drifted upward to the tallest floor, to the window he thought Spock had been facing when Jim made his oh-so-graceful entrance. The lights were out on that floor-all of them were except the first floor. Spock was probably home by this point, Jim mused before he tore his gaze away from the building as his eyes registered the change in color in front of him. Was Spock home? It was a Friday night, surely Spock was out on the town like everyone else-but, who was Jim to know? Besides, Spock looked like the kind of man who stayed home on the weekend, probably reading or something. As a Vulcan, going out on the town was probably not the most appealing idea since it would probably just prove too overstimulating and overbearing.

_‘I think you’ll find that like Humans, not all Vulcans are alike.’_

     The thought popped out of nowhere, and despite it feeling like a reprimand, Jim grinned anyway. Spock had gone out of his way to tell Jim that this morning- _oh jeez, morning felt so far away_ \- and now it felt as if the man himself were once again reminding Jim to keep his mind open. Maybe Spock _was_ out on the town then, doing who-knows-what. Jim would never know, but at least he could amuse himself with the idea. A more rational, level-headed side of him rolled their eyes at him as he indulged in thinking about the CEO.

_‘Get a grip, Kirk.’_

     He revved the engine, flying down the streets at a comfortable and (barely) legal pace as he neared his work, slowing down with mild reluctance before killing the engine as he stopped in the employee parking lot in front of the bar. He carefully slid off the bike and removed the helmet before stowing it away and glanced up at the neon sign reading ‘The Crossroads’ in bright white lights. He pulled in a deep breath of night air and headed inside, grin already pulling at his lips as he heard a gruff, familiar voice calling out to him.

     “What’s got you all starry-eyed, huh Slim?” Bones drawled as Jim punched in for the night. He was dressed identically to Jim, donning the same dark shirt and pants, but Jim felt it matched the older man’s personality more than his own.

     “Just you, Bone Daddy.” Jim leered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the side of the entrance to the bar. He savored the scowl that flared up on Bones’ face as the older man’s ears tinged red.

     “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Bones griped, although there was no heat in it. Jim shrugged before pushing off the wall and took his place next to him.

     “If I told you, then that’d ruin the fun.” He quipped, casually bumping into Bones’ shoulder with his own.

     Bones didn’t reply with anything more than a grunt.

     “So, when is Gaila coming?” Jim inquired, pulling up the girlfriend card. It never failed, any time Jim mentioned the Orion’s name Bones would turn into a marshmallow-or at least, a porcupine with marshmallows covering the quills. Still a prickly bastard, but softer and cuter.

     Sure enough, just hearing her name softened the Southerner’s look considerably; his scowl disappeared for a moment as he checked his watch, “She’ll be here in about 15 minutes.” He replied, “We’ll stick around for a bit after my shift ends and then we’ll be heading home.”

     Jim thought he saw a smile flash across his friend’s face but didn’t comment on it. A familiar zing of envy flickered through his heart before a patron stepped up and ordered a drink, thankfully distracting him. The patron, he noticed, had really nice brown eyes. They weren’t nearly as dark as Spock’s though, and they didn’t hold the same gravity either but they were still nice nonetheless.

     They worked in relative silence for the rest of the older man’s shift, and when he was finished and had clocked out, Bones was looking at him again.

     “I was serious earlier,” Bones murmured, looking Jim up and down, “how’re you?”

     Jim pursed his lips thoughtfully, tapping a finger against them as he thought before blurting the first thing that crossed his mind, “Well, I woke up today so I’d say I’m dandy.”

     Bones rolled his eyes but smirked anyway; Jim always used that line with him. That was alright though-if Jim didn’t want to tell him, then he’d back off. He was a patient man. Whatever it was, it must’ve been good- what else could explain that dopey smile Jim wore when he wasn’t paying attention? He opened his mouth to retort, but his eyes flickered over to the entrance as a familiar green woman strolled into the establishment and then his mouth went dry as his girlfriend walked up to the bar with that flirtatious grin of hers that never failed to get his old country boy heart kicking.

     “Hi there handsome,” Gaila’s aquamarine eyes twinkled up at him as she rested an elbow on the bar and leaned up at him, “are kisses on the menu?”

     Jim snorted to himself and looked away, giving his friend a moment of privacy as the Georgian leaned over and pecked Gaila on the nose before pulling away. Jim couldn’t help but sneak a glance and smile to himself-it was adorable. Grossly adorable, but adorable. He wanted that, wanted it so bad that it felt pathetic, and for the umpteenth time since that morning his thoughts flickered back to dark eyes and cupid bow lips.

     “That’s all your getting for now,” Bones quipped, face burning with embarrassment as he cleared his throat, “but um, maybe later-”

     “Later sounds good to me, Len.” Gaila grinned, shooting him a wink before catching Jim’s eye. Her grin faltered for a second as she stared at him before reappearing on her face with an intensity that, quite frankly, scared the living daylights out of Jim.

     “Hey Jimmy.” She drawled, giving him a once-over that felt like she was searching for something.

     “Hey La.” He replied carefully, aware of Bones’ and Gaila’s combined attention on him.

     “So,” the redheaded Orion perched herself on the stool in front of Jim before turning to face him, placing both elbows on the bar as she cradled her face in her hands, “any new people in your life?”

     Bones sidled closer.

     “I meet new people all the time, Gaila.” Jim chirped as he cleaned a glass. Gaila raised a brow at him, that knowing glint in her eyes not leaving.

     “Yeah, but have you met anyone _attractive_ recently?” she pressed, biting her lip as she watched him falter when he placed the glass back up on the rack. She shot Bones a smirk, sharing a conspiratorial wink with her boyfriend before refocusing on the dirty blond.

     Attractive was a perfectly acceptable description of Spock, Jim knew, but he didn’t want to relent just yet. Besides, it wasn’t like he had to spill his guts about some crush. He wasn’t in the mood. No matter how strong that crush was.

     “Yes, but it was nothing.” There, a half-lie was better than an outright lie.

     “Okay, spill. Who is it?”

     Jim shot Bones a pleading look but the brunet just shrugged.

     “Oh, come on Bones, please tell her to drop it,” Jim whined, “she’ll listen to you.”

     Now it was Bones who raised a brow at him, “Jim, firstly, I would never. Secondly, trying to ask Gaila to quit when she’s on to something-and there is definitely _something_ going on with you- is like trying to hold back a hurricane with your hands. It ain’t gonna happen.”

     Gaila nodded along enthusiastically, “It’s true. Lenny knows firsthand that I don’t back down from a challenge.”

     He indeed, did know. She’d chased him around for at least two months before he got it through his thick skull that someone saw something good in him that his ex-wife hadn’t. He still struggled with believing someone as gorgeous as Gaila would like him, but she did, bless her heart. When Joanna proclaimed that she liked Gaila (much to the Orion’s immense delight), well, he stopped trying to look this particular gift horse in the mouth after that.

     Jim opened his mouth but quickly closed it as the door to the bar opened again to show Uhura walking in with Scotty behind her, having opened the door for her. Their hands found one another as they approached the bar and Jim sighed in relief for the distraction.

     “Lookie here! What can I get for you two?” Jim beamed at the couple, thanking his lucky stars that they’d showed up just in time to save him from Gaila’s pestering. Of course, Gaila would most definitely confront him later, Jim knew, but for now he could put it on the backburner.

     “You’re safe for now lover boy, but don’t think I won’t forget about this.” Gaila warned playfully before turning to the new arrivals.

     “I’ll have the usual.” Scotty quipped, before turning to Nyota, “and you, mo ghràdh?”

     Nyota squeezed his fingers as she turned to Jim, “I’ll have a long island iced tea.”

     Jim turned to Bones who was already working on Scotty’s scotch and gave the couple a nod before turning to work on Nyota’s drink. As he had his back turned, Gaila sidled up next to Nyota, pulling her into a big hug.

     “What was that about Jim being safe?” Nyota whispered into Gaila’s ear.

     “Someone’s got Kirk’s attention.” Gaila muttered, pulling away to look into Nyota’s eyes. She grinned maniacally as the polyglot slowly tilted her head to the side with the most disbelieving look on her face before turning to Scotty.

     “Mind if I steal your girl? Just for a second, mind you. It’ll be like she never left.”

     “You say that,” Scotty quipped, furrowing his brows at her as he grinned, “but trust me, every moment away from mo leannan is a moment recorded in this ol’ heart o’ mine.”

     “You sap.” Gaila playfully wiggled a finger at him as her other hand wrapped around Nyota’s arm to whisk her away but Scotty only shrugged, eyes softer than usual as he and his lover shared a gaze.

     “Tis true. Why, I reckon McCoy here feels the same, don’t ya?”

     “I reckon I might, Scott.”

     “Really Len?” Gaila cooed, and Jim nearly threw up into the long island iced tea before handing it over to Nyota. Bones’ blush returned as he nodded with a grunt. The two women scampered off to the bathroom together, looking like a couple of teenagers as they huddled close and walked with a bounce to their step.

     “Okay so who’s Kirk got the hots for?” Nyota inquired as they entered the bathroom. Gaila turned to the mirror, fixing her flaming hair as she spoke.

     “Well, you know how I usually just ignore other people’s pheromones as a general rule?”

     “Mhm.” Nyota replied as she savored her drink.

     “Well, this time it was kind of hard to.”

     Nyota raised a brow at Gaila’s reflection in the mirror.

     “I swear to you NiNi, Jim was swimming in pheromones. I could practically taste it. One look into his eyes, and boom! You could practically see the oxytocin and dopamine swirling through those sky blues. It was _insane_ , I tell you!” she turned from the mirror, grin wide, “I’ve never seen him like this.”

     “Not even with What’s-His-Face from October?”

     Gaila wrinkled her nose in disgust as her mind flashed back to the idiot in question-the cheater, the despicable lowlife that had Jim second guessing himself ever since.

     “No.” She answered firmly, “this time it’s different.”

     Nyota leaned against the counter top, hand coming up to smooth down her already slicked back hair, “Girl, please tell me you got a name.”

     Gaila’s grin faltered for a second, “Nah, unfortunately I didn’t. I was _so_ close to cracking him, but…” She trailed off, frowning a little at the mirror before that grin reappeared on her face, “but now you’re here! Maybe you could help us.”

     “Us?” Nyota raised a brow, “Is everyone in on this endeavor?”

     “Technically? No. I’m guessing Pavel and Hikaru don’t know, but Len does. And now you do!”

     “Okay, okay,” Nyota giggled, smoothing down the front of her dress, “I don’t know what you expect me to do, but I’ll do my best-whatever it is.”

     “I just need you to talk to him. This is obviously serious, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say he deserves to be happy.”

     “Amen.” Nyota declared, throwing her hands up into the air and waving them before wrapping an arm around Gaila’s shoulders as Gaila led them back to the bar.

     “You sure know how to make em’.” Nyota quipped, pointing to her drink as she took a stool beside Scotty in front of Jim as the dirty blonde returned from making another order for another patron. He beamed at her,

     “Only the best for my friends.”

     “Speaking of those,” Bones glanced up at the clock before locking eyes with Jim, “it looks like my shift is over. This friend has gotta go.”

     Jim slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly as Bones left, Gaila at his arm as he herded her out. She shot him one last grin over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. Once they were gone, Jim sagged a little in relief.

     “That bad, huh?” Scotty quipped as he nursed his drink, “I heard what she said earlier. What was she after this time?”

     “Oh, she just thought I had someone special in mind.” Jim answered flippantly, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering in protest as he tried to play the situation down.

     “Well, she can read pheromones,” Nyota countered, “so I’m inclined to believe she was right.”

     Jim shrugged at that, “I mean, she was right, but I don’t think it’s gonna go anywhere.”

     Of course it wouldn’t.

     Jim was a nobody, he had no political ties, he’d never even been to space-but oh did he want to. He didn’t have much to his name except his bike and his prized collection of hard cover and paperback books. He had no right thinking any longer about Spock- if anything, it hurt. He had no chance, or at least that’s what he’d been trying to tell himself since he walked out of the ‘Grayson House’ building this morning. A quiet voice inside his head told Jim that if his ex was here, he’d be sneering at him-with good reason. This was just a one-time thing, nothing more, nothing less. No chance. So, when Scotty spoke up next, he found his barriers regarding the matter crashing down, if only to squash his hope.

     “And why the hell not?” Scotty exclaimed, causing the dirty blond to jump a little, “Why, look at ye! You’re smart, funny, and a good-looking bloke! You tell me why it won’t be going anywhere.”

     Nyota grinned at the Scotsman, grateful he’d taken imitative to pry so she didn’t have to.

     “Well, first of all,” Jim shot back, ticking off a finger, “we only met because Chekov’s sick.”

     “Yeah, I heard the poor bastard was down with something.” Scotty murmured, “So how exactly did his falling ill lead to you meeting this ‘special someone’?”

     Jim blatantly ignored the flush crawling up his neck as he remembered seeing Spock in person for the first time, “Well, he had an interview assignment and I covered for him.”

     “Who was his assignment?” Nyota inquired, phone out and hidden beneath the bar to text Gaila.

     Jim took a deep breath, “The CEO of Grayson Incorporated.”

     “You mean Spock Grayson?” Nyota gasped before lowering her voice, “ _the_ Spock Grayson?”

     “That’s the one.” Jim confirmed through clenched teeth.

     “Who?” Scotty peered over at his girl for clarification, “enlighten me, Love.”

     “He’s the only son of the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, and as Jim said, he’s also the CEO of his Human mother’s company.” Nyota explained, her fingers typing away on her phone. She couldn’t wait to read Gaila’s reply.

     “He’s got a Human Mother? And he took on her last name?” Scotty spluttered, “that’s unheard of, innet?”

     Nyota nodded, tone severe, “Yes. Mr. Grayson is a scientific breakthrough. No one thought it was possible, until he was born. When he took on his mother’s name, it apparently caused quite a stir back home on Vulcan. He’s not been back there for many years.” Her eyes landed on Jim right then, gauging him.

     Jim didn’t realize he was leaning in until he found himself leaning back.

     Scotty let out a low whistle, “And you interviewed this bloke? What was it like?”

     A patron waved him over just then, saving his skin and giving him more time to answer that. He had so many responses waiting on the tip of his tongue- ‘electrifying’ being one of them. However, that sounded way too cheesy for his tastes (despite its accuracy), and with self-doubt choking him ( _‘of course it was, but it didn’t mean anything for him, it couldn’t have’_ ) he didn’t think he could take any teasing. Not yet anyway. When he returned, he returned to a pair of imploring eyes.

     “It was intense.” Jim answered them carefully.

     There, that didn’t sound so cringy. ‘Intense’ was true and conveyed everything he felt about the matter.

     “Intense?” Scotty pressed, “How so?”

     “Well, um,” Jim scratched the back of his neck before letting his hand slap the countertop, “It just was.”

     “You’re gonna have to elaborate.”

     “Well, there was a lot of staring.”

     “Staring?” Nyota parroted, the ‘go on’ left unsaid but felt nonetheless. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a minute before leaning toward her.

     “Look,” he murmured, eyes scanning the crowd, “the only reason why I’m telling you this at all is because you’ll read it in the papers soon enough. Spock, he…”

     Nyota and Scotty waited for a couple seconds, but Jim continued to just gape.

     “Oi, spit it out lad.”

     “He blatantly said he preferred the company of men,” Jim whispered harshly, trying to form the words in his brain as he spoke them-which was no easy feat since his brain tended to get technical when he was under pressure, “and when I was there, I may or may not have caught him looking at me in places other than my eyes. And we may have held some impromptu heated eye contact. But-but it probably wasn’t anything-”

     Nyota snorted behind the back of her hand, “Wait, wait, wait- let me get this straight- the CEO of Grayson Industries was _eyefucking_ you?”

     Scotty grinned unabashedly as he watched the tips of Jim’s ears turn bright red with embarrassment before adding with faux concern tinging his voice, “Did ya at least use protection?”

     Nyota’s snort turned into a chuckle as Jim narrowed his eyes and scowled at her boyfriend, “Hardy har har, Scotty,” Jim deadpanned, “you’re a riot.”

     “Ya better believe it.” Scotty quipped, with a playful wink.

     “Are you going to see him again?”

     Nyota’s question was thankfully aimed at him as Jim had his back to them, preparing another drink for another patron. His back suddenly hurt with how rigid he’d unconsciously stiffened it, eyes glazed over in thought as he stared down at the ingredients for a minute without actually moving to combine them before mentally shaking himself out of it. As he turned to deliver the drink and face the couple, he avoided Nyota’s searching gaze, hoping she couldn’t see the turmoil within.

     Unfortunately, Nyota- blessed Nyota, brilliant linguist that she was- read his body language as if he’d word-vomited all over them.

     “Oh, Jim,” She breathed, sliding a hand over the countertop to cover his, “you can’t possibly believe whatever lies are flying around in that brain of yours.”

     “They’re pretty believable.” Jim countered bitterly, letting her pat his hand soothingly, “It’s just…” He paused, furrowing his brows, “Nyota it feels like I’m way out of his league, like I’m a nobody-”

     “Bullshit.” Scotty interjected sternly, waggling his finger at Jim like he was scolding a child, “That’s utter cock, that is.”

     “Jim, Monty’s right. You shouldn’t be closing yourself off like that.” Nyota urged, slipping her hand away to intertwine her fingers with Scotty, sharing a look with the brunet, “You’re not a nobody. It wasn’t some _nobody_ who introduced me to the amor de mi vida.”

     She squeezed Scotty’s fingers, eyes boring into Jim’s as she wished in vain that she could telepathically convey her, Scotty’s-all of their friends’- desire for him to be happy. Instead, she carefully and quietly added,

     “You owe it to yourself and Mr. Grayson to give this a shot.”

     “I get you want me to give it a shot for my sake,” Jim sighed, “but Spock’s?”

     Nyota rolled her eyes, “Jim, this isn’t just about you. What if you’re exactly in his league? If you cut yourself off, you’re doing him a disservice. Relationships are a two-way street after all, which means,” she took a deep breath then, “if you don’t reach out then you only make it harder to establish a relationship.”

     Nyota would know. It took her weeks to build up the courage to reach out to Scotty, and after all was said and done, she still rued the weeks she’d wasted wallowing in her self-doubts. She wasn’t going to let that happen to Jim-not if she could help it. He may be an idiot sometimes, but he was her idiot, and as it was with all things Nyota felt she owned, she wanted to take care of him. If this Mr. Grayson was that ticket to helping make Jim see his own appeal and instill some level of happiness, then she was willing to buy. The look of concern in Scotty’s blue-brown eyes told her the feeling was mutual.

     Jim wanted to growl in frustration- he understood her point, but the last time he reached out in a relationship (a failing one but oh, did he _try_ ), he was branded as ‘too clingy’ and then was cheated on because he wasn’t good enough to keep his man and didn’t want to put out because he was too afraid of being found out as a virgin but he was terrified, _terrified_ of the ridicule because it’s just not “normal” for someone his age-he couldn’t go through the pain of finding out he wasn’t good enough again, he _couldn’t._ Looking back, he’d failed his partner, and he failed himself, and if there was one thing Jim T. Kirk hated, it was failure.

      A waved hand from his peripheral caught Jim’s attention then and with a small smile he left the couple to the other side of the bar to attend. Nyota sighed, swiveling around in her chair to take a gander at the crowd; ‘The Crossroads’ was a nice bar, overall. Not really a party scene, more like a place to gather and catch up with your friends and try to drink each other under the table. She leaned against Scotty’s shoulder, a smile forming on her face as she felt his arm snake around her waist.

     She planted a firm kiss to his jaw as he sipped his drink, savoring the warmth of his hand against her back as he held her close before resting her head on his shoulder.

     “Mo ghràdh?”

     Nyota opened her eyes, and looked up to him, “Yes?”

     Scotty was squinting now, “Didn’t ya say this bloke was a Vulcan?”

     “Half Vulcan, Mon Cher,” she corrected soothingly, “why do you ask?”

     “Is that maybe him, over there?” Scotty murmured, gesturing vaguely with his drink. Nyota followed his gaze, eyes settling on a tall, pale, and definitely Vulcan man weaving through the crowd. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but his clothes were still high end and fit him like they were tailor made as he strode through the room with a surging energy that rivaled that of a tsunami-wherever he walked, people parted to give him space.

     Her grin grew with each step he took until she realized he was walking toward them. She quickly ushered Scotty to turn around with her, knees knocking together in their haste.

     “We’re going to find out _real_ soon.” Nyota murmured into Scotty’s ear, kissing the lobe before pulling away to read Gaila’s texts. Scotty rested his chin on his fist as he leaned toward her to ask about the texts, the two of them reading over her shoulder.

**_Is he hot? He has to be hot or else I’m intervening on Jim’s behalf_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_OH_ **

**_I JUST LOOKED HIM UP_ **

**_HE’S HOT_ **

**_LIKE HIS PLANET_ **

**_*SWOONS*_ **

**_LENNY AGREES I REPEAT, LENNY AGREES_ **

**_AHHHHHHHHHHH_ **

     Nyota stifled the desire to chortle by taking a swig of her drink, slightly shaking with muted laughter as her lover risked a casual glance up, careful to school his features to watch the stranger sit down with an empty stool between them. Scotty caught the man’s eye and nodded briskly, earning a small nod in return as the Vulcan settled in and placed his clasped hands on the countertop, eyes glued to Jim as the latter stood a couple feet away, totally oblivious, handing a patron their drink before proceeding to process the order. To the untrained eye, it looked as if the man was simply waiting to be waited on, but Scotty had the sneaky suspicion that there was more than that going on one stool away from him.

     ‘Bloody hell’ Scotty mouthed to Nyota after she registered the situation, her warm, dark chocolate eyes nearly as wide as her grin before she typed furiously to update Gaila on the recent developments. She quickly glanced up to see Jim sidle back over, throwing a towel over his shoulder to rest it there. Sometime between serving drinks he had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and he wore a more genuine, easy smile as he rejoined them.

     “Hey guys, sorry that took a little longer than I thought it would,” Jim registered the newer addition to the bar from the corner of his eye and turned with a welcoming grin, “Oh hello there, what can I-”

     His words lodged in his throat as he stared at all-too-familiar dark eyes glittering up at him with an underlying current of humor. Jim blinked rapidly, leaning against the countertop, surprised and pleased as Spock did the same.

    “Hi.” Jim breathed, cheeks burning.

     “Hello Jim.” Spock replied smoothly, tilting his head up at him, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I wanted to see you again, this time in your element,” he paused then, before adding almost hesitantly, “Is that alright?”

     “Of course!” Jim blurted, nearly cringing with how quickly and enthusiastically his voice sounded even to his own ears. He thought he saw Nyota shoot him a smirk, but he couldn’t be bothered to tear his attention away from the source of that gorgeous voice.

     “What can I get for you Spock?” He inquired as he pushed off from the countertop and straightened up.

_‘You’_

     Spock didn’t drink as a general rule; not because he didn’t find alcohol to be palatable, but because he didn’t see the need to become inebriated-but if there was one thing Mama Grayson taught him, it was ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’.

     “What is your selection regarding drinks with high concentrations of sugar at this establishment?”

     Nyota stared hard at the countertop as Jim blinked rapidly at Spock before a dazzling grin split across his face. So, Spock wanted to get buzzed, did he? Well. Who was Jim to try and prevent that?

     “Do you trust me?” He inquired in lieu of answering.

     “Yes.”

     And Spock did-well, at least with making him a drink that would get him fairly intoxicated at least.

     “Alright. I got you, just give me a moment.” Jim chirped before turning away to concoct the perfect drink. His mind reeled with the possibilities before settling on just one. He pulled out a bottle of Vodka, and then another bottle-this one containing crème de cacao- before fishing the cocoa powder out from one of the cabinets above his head and set it down as well.

     “Jimmy is a wiz at this kind of thing,” Scotty found himself saying as he leaned over slightly toward Spock, “I should know-I’m here quite frequently.”

     “Ah, come on Scotty!” Jim interjected, turning briefly to shoot Scotty with a finger gun, “you only ever drink your Scotch.”

     “Not true! I’ve tried other things.”

     “Drinking some of Nyota’s drinks don’t count.” Jim countered, winking at the polyglot. Nyota patted Scotty’s hand lovingly,

     “He has a point, mi corazón.”

     Jim almost turned back around before remembering his manners. He gestured to Nyota and Scotty as he spoke to Spock,

     “Forgive me. This Ms. Nyota Uhura and Mr. Montgomery Scott,” he looked to the couple as he gestured to Spock, “This is Mr. Grayson,” he paused, locking eyes with Spock, “my newest acquaintance.”

     Spock let his gaze slide to the couple and nodded, offering the customary Ta’al, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances to you, Mr. Scott and Ms. Uhura.”

     Jim couldn’t help but notice he did not offer his hand first. Heat coiled low in his gut as he registered this, and he quickly turned back to making Spock’s drink to avoid making a fool of himself. It probably didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. He repeated this over and over again in his head as he worked, grateful that his hands were still steady as he did so.

     “You as well,” Nyota replied warmly, her mind screaming, “if you don’t mind, I need to make a phone call.” She said abruptly, untangling herself from Scotty’s side as she quickly excused herself to go outside, phone already out and dialing Gaila. Scotty pouted, but knew her intentions and with nothing else to do, finished off his drink.

     “It’s nice to meet ya too, Sir.” He offered with a tight smile, his brain telling him to keep his mouth shut even as his throat itched with the desire to sing praises in Jim’s favor. He flagged down another tender and refilled his drink, carefully keeping his mouth busy by sipping it.

     Jim carefully spun around on his heel, holding out a martini glass full of something light brown, the rim dusted with cocoa powder. He slowly slid the drink forward until it was resting in front of Spock, eyes dancing across the brunet’s face with glee as he leaned in,

      “Enjoy.” He muttered, fingers slipping away from the neck of the glass as Spock’s fingers wrapped around the cool drink.

 _‘We were so close there, Jim,’_ Spock mused as he picked up the martini and inhaled the sharp, chocolatey aroma, eyes locking with Jim’s as he raised it to his lips and took a sip, _‘did you feel it?’_

      Jim held his breath and kicked himself for the intense jealousy that he felt for that drink. “So, uh, d-do you like it?” he inquired, forearms pressing into the edge of the counter as he waited for an answer.

     “Indeed, I do. It is most satisfactory.” Spock replied, taking another sip before handing over his card. Jim took it carefully, chuckling to himself.

     “It’s a chocolate martini, quite simple to make if you ever want me to teach you.”

     “I’d be amenable to that.”

     Jim slid the card over and smiled at him, “Awesome.”

     “Would you teach me too, Jimmy?” Scotty teased, leaning against the counter as he watched Nyota return from outside.

     “What is Kirk teaching?” Nyota inquired airily, opting to stand and lean against Scotty instead of taking a seat.

     “Nothing Love,” Scotty murmured, pecking her on the cheek, “are you about ready to jet?”

     Her eyes slid over to Jim, a silent question in her gaze, and he nodded minutely to her. “Yes, I’m ready to go whenever you are, Tesoro.” She replied sweetly, kissing his cheek as she dropped another foreign pet name before pulling him to his feet.

     “Again, it was nice meeting you Mr. Grayson,” Scotty offered, “I hope we see you around.”

     Spock raised a brow and nodded, “Likewise, and I’m sure you will.”

     Nyota shot Jim a smirk at that and a wink before following Scotty out.

     Jim waved a small goodbye to their retreating figures before letting his fingers drum against the bar, turning to see Spock taking another sip of his drink,

     “So those are some of my friends.” He drawled, slipping the towel off his shoulder to dry off another glass.

     “They seemed to be quite amiable.” Spock observed, “are all your friends as amiable as them?”

     “I’d say so-well, except maybe Bones,” Jim lowered his voice and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, “but between you and me, he’s getting better-his girlfriend makes him soft.” 

     “Indeed?” Spock replied, the corner of his lip twitching minutely, “are all of your friends in relationships?”

     “Yep.” Jim supplied, popping the ‘p'. It was a rather enjoyable obscene noise, Spock noted as Jim continued, “What can I say? All my friends are attractive as hell and have stellar personalities.”

     “I believe the saying is ‘birds of a feather flock together’, is that correct?” Spock inquired with perfect yet faux innocence in his tone, savoring the sudden flush rising in the bartender’s cheeks.

     “You could say that.” Jim replied, voice slightly strained as he stared down at the glass in his hands, rubbing over the same spot over and over again as he willed away his blush.

     “I believe I just did.” Spock hummed, leaning forward onto the counter before pressing, “forgive me, but I must ask you a personal question.”

     Electric blue eyes glanced up to meet his for a split second, before Jim refocused on the glass.

     “Go for it.”

     “You said all your friends were in relationships at the moment.” Spock pointed out with careful infliction, tone perfectly neutral as always, “Am I to take it that you are also in a relationship?”

_‘Please say ‘no’, please say ‘no’, please say ‘no’, please-’_

     “Ah-me? No,” Jim chortled, shaking his head. “No,” he repeated, more to himself before speaking up, “I’m not. I mean- I’m not… Nah.”

 _‘Smooth Jim, so smooth. You’re so smooth, you tripped all over yourself.’_  Jim hissed to himself as he set the glass down with a soft ‘clunk’.

     “That’s good.”

     Jim furrowed his brows at that, “Good? May I ask what you mean by that?” What did he mean by ‘good’? What kind of joke-

     “Of course. What I meant by 'that's good'," Spock paused, clasping his hands together atop the counter, " is that it would have been terribly awkward if I had asked you to dinner only to find out that you were unavailable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* a cliffhanger?? I'm terrible, I know. Please forgive me, but it was getting rather long and that felt like a proper (and tortuous, I know-trust me, I do) place to wrap up for chapter 2.
> 
> Endearments used in this chapter:  
> 1\. mo ghràdh - Scottish Gaelic, "My love"  
> 2\. mo leannan - Scottish Gaelic, "My lover/sweetheart"  
> source for the above two: www.omniglot.com/language/endearment/gaelic.htm  
> 3\. amor de mi vida - Spanish, "love of my life"  
> 4\. mi corazón - Spanish, "my heart"  
> Source: trust me, yo hablo Español  
> 5\. Mon Cher - French, "My Darling"  
> Source: https://www.annieandre.com/101-cute-french-terms-of-endearment/  
> 6\. Tesoro -Italian, "treasure"  
> Source: www.italymagazine.com/news/how-say-words-endearment-italian
> 
> Again, friendly reminder that this is unbeta'd and so all mistakes are mine~ <3


	3. Feelings - Hayley Kiyoko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Y'all! It's been a while since I last posted, but I wanted to remind everyone that I am indeed dedicated to this and working on it when I can, so please have patience with me. On the plus side, I have found someone willing to help me when they can- their name on AO3 is " reallyamerica " and they're awesome so go check out their work when you get the chance! Here's a link to their works so you don't have to go searching for them <3 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyamerica/pseuds/reallyamerica
> 
> As always, I look forward to your comments-thoughts, insight, etc. and hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure?”

    The incredulous, surprised tone of his current obsession left Spock mute for the briefest of seconds. He stared at Jim, slightly furrowing his brows and fighting off a frown as he watched the dirty blonde’s pink lips form an ‘o’, his cerulean eyes wide as if he hadn’t actually meant to ask him that question. By the way Jim had blurted it out Spock was rather sure this was the case. That was all good and well to know, however that left him with one question-what did it mean? Obviously, Jim was surprised-but why?

    Was it because he was asking after him so soon, after just meeting? Spock had to admit, his actions could be interpreted as rather hasty but then again, he never did do well with waiting for things he wanted. That wasn’t to say he was not a patient man. In fact, Spock held a vast reserve of patience due to his cultural upbringing and he had to tap into it every so often with his career. However, his ability to show outward patience only belied the truth- Spock hated waiting. Absolutely loathed it.

    Sure, he could sit still and look, for all the world, to be completely unaffected when forced to wait fifteen minutes for a meeting but inside the safety of his mind where his peers couldn’t see, he was probably at least a little irked and couldn’t-nor wouldn’t-deny himself from acknowledging the existence of said feeling. His career as a lucrative businessman hadn’t helped him either- people usually waited for him, not the other way around. Between the influence of his societal position and wealth, he rarely had to practice patience. It was quite rare for him to have to wait longer than fifteen minutes during a normal business day and when he did have to wait, the offender generally made it worth his time.

    Being a businessman also meant going out and getting what he wanted-whether it be a new deal, reaching a seemingly unattainable quota, or in this case, one James T. Kirk.

    So, when Jim blurted out his question with what felt very much like doubt and self-deprecation, he could only stop and look again at the man he’d only met that morning and wonder how much more there was to Jim than just vivid aesthetics, charm, and intellect.

    “I assure you, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” Spock answered carefully, whisking his martini glass off the counter and taking another long sip of the frothy chilled beverage. He really did hope Jim stood by his offer to teach him to make this, it was quite delightful.

    Jim licked his lips, wincing at how dry they were. His brain felt a little fuzzy. A patron’s raised hand caught his eye.

    “Alright,” Jim answered softly, catching Spock’s gaze, “I’d uh, love that. To have dinner with you,” he looked again at the patron before giving Spock a little half-smile, holding up a finger, “one moment.”

    Spock nodded once, watching him walk over to the patron. He gripped the stem of his martini a little tighter than necessary as he noticed the patron unmistakably eyeing the flattering dark fabric of Jim’s uniform as Jim approached and turned around to assemble some ingredients for them. A baser, mostly ignored part of him wished that his hand was wrapped around the patron’s neck for ogling Jim, instead of his drink. He blinked owlishly and looked away quickly.

 _‘Mine!’_ Spock thought before shaking himself of it. What a childish thought-Jim wasn’t his.

_‘Not yet.’_

    That thought lingered, bouncing around in his skull as he subtly glared daggers into the oblivious patron’s side. It was ridiculous-Spock wasn’t a child anymore, no longer fueled with an obviously selfish and primal desire to claim everything he could touch.

_‘I haven’t touched Jim yet.’_

     But oh, did he want to- he craved it with a _repressed_ selfish and primal desire as opposed to an obvious one--or he hoped he wasn’t being obvious. He probably was being obvious. Probably. Now that he thought about it, he was quite sure of it. That was the thing though, Spock simply didn’t want to think about it- not really. He couldn’t change his previous behavior after all. What he did want to do was reprimand himself for feeling protective and possessive over a near-stranger. He wanted to pretend like he didn’t feel anything but lust because that was easier and had a simple solution-not this budding curiosity for what lay beneath Jim’s skin, inside his mind. He wanted to understand what Jim had meant when he’d asked him if he were sure about asking him out for dinner. He wanted to catalogue Jim’s words, tones, and voice so that he wouldn’t have to wonder so much.

    He wanted Jim.

    Spock blinked hard and stared down at his drink. It was doing wonders on his psyche.

    T’Pring would practically laugh at him through their bond if she were here, Spock thought idly as he took another sip, but then she’d also most likely mourn for him in her own way. His bond mate, as unwilling (and oh, the feeling was mutual) as she was about the idea of marrying him, still had a spot in his figurative heart. He didn’t have to pretend that she held him in the same regard, the bond told him so. They may not have shared a mutual attraction, but they did share a similarity of mind-they would not have been arranged if they hadn’t after all, and as such formed their own friendship of sorts. Most days Spock could easily let himself forget that they were bonded-they had long ago mastered blocking each other out to maintain mental personal space. If one wanted to contact the other, they simply picked up the phone.

    By all rights, Spock was alone in his mind.

    It had been a couple of weeks since they’d last spoken, but Spock figured not much had changed; She was probably doing quite well in her job, and most definitely still figuratively dancing around her feelings for Stonn. She’d been fourteen when Spock felt the first flicker of emotional desire through their bond for their fellow classmate, and that desire had only grown dangerously throughout the years. It was only a matter of time before she gave in, and when she did, Spock wasn’t going to feel anything but relief. Maybe then the Council would release the death grip they had on their desire to see them married.

    “You look awfully pensive-well, more pensive than I’d like to think you would look anyway. Is there something on your mind?”

    Spock glanced up sluggishly to find Jim leaning on the counter again, peering down at him thoughtfully, as if he were trying to see into Spock’s mind.

    “I’ll admit that I have a lot on my mind.” Spock relented, tone careful like before. He watched with curiosity as Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small circular brown coin. Terran money-why did Jim carry outdated currency with him? He watched Jim place it in front of him and, using his middle finger and thumb, send it spinning across the shiny lacquered surface of the counter.

    “Penny for your thoughts?” Jim inquired, watching Spock watch the coin until it lost momentum and fell over. When it did, Spock abruptly glanced up at him, having snapped out of whatever trance he didn’t realize he’d fallen into. He tilted his head up at Jim slightly, and Jim held his gaze, those dark eyes holding more questions than answers, it seemed. He looked cute like that, Jim decided, like a confused kitten.

    “Jim, why do you carry around outdated currency with you?”

    Jim picked up the item in question, turning it over and over in his fingers, “It’s a family heirloom.” He explained before pocketing the penny carefully and leaned against the counter once more. It took him at least two months to get his Mother to let him hold onto that penny. It had been George’s, and with most things that belonged to his Father, she had been very reluctant to part with it. As such, he never lost track of it-he rarely took it out of the house, but some nights he found himself slipping it into his work uniform to give him company on the particularly slow nights.

    “Indeed?” Spock drawled, leaning forward to murmur, “Do you always use it to entice people to open up to you regarding one’s thoughts? I admit, I’ve never witnessed anyone physically pull out of their pocket the figurative object of an idiom before.”

    Jim chuckled then, a warm throaty sound that made Spock’s fingers twitch with the growing familiar desire to touch. “I do like to use it, but generally I don’t have to-people like opening up to me on their own, since I’m-well, you know, a bartender.”

    “I see.”

    “So, what were you thinking about?” Jim pressed.

    Ah, yes.

    “You said this morning that you’re undergoing finals,” Spock recalled, “If we are to dine together, I’d like to focus on working around your schedule-my schedule is most likely more flexible than yours. What day and time works best for you?”

    “I have time off from work on Saturdays, and I should be done with the last of my finals by Friday, so either Friday afternoon or Saturday night works best for me,” Jim answered after a minute’s pause, “Do either of those general time frames work for you?”

    Spock knew immediately that Saturday night would, but he didn’t want to appear thoughtless or rushed about his answer. So instead of telling him right away, he took one last swig from his drink as if he were thinking about it and slid the empty glass forward.

    “I believe that Saturday night works for me,” he supplied, “Would you be amenable to having dinner at eight o’clock?”

    “I most certainly would,” Jim quipped cheerfully, “where did you have in mind?”

    Spock opened his mouth to answer but realized he didn’t have one.

    “I am open to suggestions.”

    Jim cupped his chin in his hand as he propped an elbow on the countertop and hummed thoughtfully, “I believe I know of a couple of Italian places around here that offer vegan and vegetarian dishes.” He paused, sneaking a glance at the Vulcan, “you are vegetarian, right? I mean, I just assumed-”

    The corner of Spock’s mouth lifted into a smile without his permission as he nodded in confirmation.

    Jim beamed at that, “So Italian?”

    “Italian is fine with me.”

    “Awesome.” Jim took the empty martini glass and gestured to it, “would you like another?”

    “No thank you. That drink performed its function sufficiently enough that I do not need another one.”

    “Did it?” Jim searched his face for a second, “I can’t tell.”

    “I assure you, I am mildly intoxicated right now. I believe ‘buzzed’ is the proper term for what I am currently feeling physically.”

    “Wow,” Jim drawled, letting out a low, long whistle, “Please forgive me when I say I can’t help but wonder what you look like when you’re wasted.” He flashed Spock a grin then, savoring the slight sage tinge starting to pool in Spock’s cheeks and the tips of his ears.

    “I have never been ‘wasted’ before.”

    “Well, take it from me, it’s not that great of an experience so you’re not missing out on anything there.” Jim murmured before pushing away to attend to a patron. Spock watched him, brain idly supplying him with images of what he imagined Jim to look like when fully intoxicated- face flushed red, blown pupils, and utterly relaxed. He wanted to see it.

    Spock scrunched his nose, annoyed with himself. Maybe that drink wasn’t the best idea, seeing as how his brain only meant to torment him. No matter, it only meant that he’d spend more time in Jim’s presence before leaving for home. He had no one waiting for him back home, nor did he have any pressing matters that he was cognizant of. Jim was grinning at him again as he returned, offering a water that he graciously took.

    “You look like you needed that,” Jim explained as Spock took a sip, “are there any other questions you have for me?”

    “How did you come to be a bartender?” Spock inquired, running his tongue along his lower lip to catch a stray water droplet as the dirty blonde watched him.

    “Huh?” Jim blinked, leaning away from the counter to scan the room, his face heating up just a little as he realized he’d been staring. The question registered quickly and he barreled on before Spock could repeat his question,

    “Oh! Well, I’ve been working here for a couple of years now. It started maybe five years ago when I moved here to ‘Frisco. I had walked in here for a drink and ended up walking out with a job.”

    Spock watched him closely, sensing more to the story than what Jim had let on, “And how, pray tell, did walking into this establishment lead to you working behind the bar?”

    Jim grinned again, “Well, my friend Bones-er, Leonard McCoy, works here when he’s not elbow-deep in someone’s guts.”

    “I beg your pardon?” Spock interjected, eyes wider than usual as he stared at Jim, urging him to explain.

    “He’s a surgeon at the local hospital,” Jim replied quickly, holding back a laugh as Spock leaned back and away from the counter as if relieved before continuing, “He was working the night I came in.”

    “Go on.”

    “There was a girl at the bar, a gorgeous Orion woman who goes by the name ‘Gaila’. This girl,” Jim chuckled to himself, “she’s a bombshell in more ways than one. Got a personality larger than life-a girl after my own heart, really. Anyway, she’s sitting there and I can tell right away that McCoy has got the biggest crush on her-it was adorably pathetic, really. So, she’s sitting there with me, and we all start talking, getting to know one another. I just get through telling them I’m new into town and looking for a job when, out of nowhere, some jerk comes waltzing into earshot saying some rather xenophobic things about Gaila.”

    Jim paused then to collect himself and Spock watched in fascination as the man’s eyes turned stormy, “I couldn’t just sit there and let him spew such garbage. So, I told him to back off.”

    “Did he?”

    Jim barked out a laugh and shook his head, “Nah! He threw a punch at me actually-he totally missed by the way, and well-I walloped him. Got a clean shot here,” Jim pointed at his jaw, drawing Spock’s eyes there, “and turns out he’s got a glass jaw! Who knew? Anyway, dude dropped like a sack of potatoes. Next thing I knew, Bones was slapping me on the back and asking if I’d like a job.”

    “You did not receive punishment for getting into a physical altercation?” Spock inquired, dumbfounded.

    “No, but I would’ve gladly taken it.” Jim replied flippantly with a shrug, “Bones wanted to sock him in the face as much as I did but since he was working he couldn’t, and I defended his girl’s honor for him. He told me he was already thinking of hiring me and then when I knocked the guy out he said it sealed the deal.”

    “Incredible.”

     It slipped out on its own, but Spock couldn’t bring himself to care. It was impressive, Jim’s penchant for stepping in and helping others in need- first Mr. Chekov, and now Mr. McCoy and Ms. Gaila. If he was quick to praise, then he simply blamed it on the drink loosening his tongue and let his conscious rest easy with that. He watched Jim’s ears tinge with pink as the man rubbed the back of his neck,

    “Well, someone had to do it.”

    “Just like how someone had to step in for Mr. Chekov?”

    Jim’s cheeks dusted with the same pink gracing his ears. Ah, what a sight. Spock opened his mouth-to say what, he had no idea- when his phone saved him with the persistent chiming of an incoming call. Jim thought he almost saw a morose look in the man’s eyes before he glanced down at his phone’s caller I.D.

    Spock’s jaw tightened infinitesimally, much to Jim’s intrigue and he answered the phone with a forced ‘greetings’ in Vulcan, although his voice felt icy and clipped despite the connotation of the phrase. Who in the hell would be calling to evoke such a startling reaction? Obviously, someone who also spoke Vulcan. Was it someone from his home planet? It had to be-right?

    “S’chn T’gai Spock, this is secretary-”

    “Yes, this is Mr. Grayson.” Spock interjected pettily with a harsh murmur into the phone, catching Jim’s inquisitive gaze. Jim looked away quickly, thankful another patron chose that second to flag him down. He scurried away, giving Spock his space.

    “Your presence is being requested by the Council,” continued the uncaring voice on the other end of the phone, “according to your medical files, your time is coming in four months and two days.”

    “That is correct but as you’ve just undeniably pointed out it has not quite arrived yet, therefore it is not necessary for me to return presently.”

    “It is not wise to postpone returning-”

    “It is not wise to rush me.” Spock countered severely, savoring the immediate quiet on the other end of the phone, “I will return before the allotted estimated time, and will not return prematurely. Until then, my company needs me.”

    A pregnant pause, and then, “Very well. Expect to receive another scheduled call in the upcoming three weeks.”

   “Make it four.” Spock demanded, not bothering to wait for a reply as he ended the call. Maybe that was rude of him, but it was too late now to apologize. Frustration bubbled up inside of him as he ruminated over the contents of the unexpected phone call-he felt sober already and wanted another drink but knew it would be unwise. Just when Spock had felt relaxed and comfortable, home had to phone him. No, that wasn’t home-not really. He missed his planet-he didn’t necessarily miss its people-not everyone, at least. He did miss his family, but every child who left the house tended to from time to time. Earth was just as much of his home as Vulcan was, and he was indeed a ‘child of two worlds’ as his Mother had raised him to believe and accept.

    They both had their ups and downs. For one, Vulcan, for all the glorious beauty it offered, had only one season-summer. Eternal, blistering summer. Spock thoroughly enjoyed this. However, his various visits to Earth when accompanying his Mother during his youth had introduced him to the other three seasons. He marveled at the colors of Autumn, the renewal of Spring, and greatly despised the cold of Winter with a burning passion. If there was one con of living on Earth, it was the Winters. And the rain-he hated that too.

    “You alright?”

    Spock glanced up from the spot on the counter he’d been staring at for the past few minutes, schooling his features as he faced Jim.

    “Just an unwanted call.”

    Jim nodded as if he understood and blessedly, didn’t press. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he had. Spock glanced down at his watch, pursing his lips slightly-it was late. He should go. He slid off his stool before leaning forward with his elbow on the countertop,

    “I’m going to return home for the night,” he announced as he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a pen, “I’d like to leave you my number if that’s alright.”

    Jim whirled around to fetch a napkin and slid it over the counter, “I uh, I’ve got you covered.”

    Spock stared down at the napkin with Jim’s handwriting on it and glanced up to see the blonde wearing a sheepish grin,

    “I wanted to give you my number so you’d text me when you got home-so I could-well, so I could know you got home safe. I’m sorry if that sounds lame but it would be nice-”

    “I assure you it isn’t ‘lame’, Jim.”

    “Really?” No, Jim’s voice did not sound grateful, nor did he get flashbacks of his ex-lover calling him ‘overly clingy’, no-sir-ee. He had sounded perfectly nonchalant-or, so he'd hoped anyway.

    “Really.”

    “Well,” Jim let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “I’d appreciate it if you did that for me and tomorrow we can talk about which restaurant you want to go to.”

    “I’m touched with your concern, Jim. I promise to text you when I get home.” Spock replied smoothly, nodding his goodbye before turning away from the bar. He turned one last time to lock eyes with Jim, the man shooting him a wink before moving away to attend a patron. Spock allowed himself to smile, even if it was miniscule, as he exited the bar and took a step outside.

_‘He cares.’_

_‘Of course he cares-he’s a decent man.’_

    He stared up into the night sky for a moment, breathing in the sight of the stars before squaring his shoulders and stepped out into the darkness toward his car, pointedly not thinking about how concerned Jim was about his safety when they only became aware of each other’s presence in the last twenty-four hours.

    Jim watched Spock leave from the corner of his eye and held back a sigh as he served a drink to another patron. Without Spock, the remaining two hours of his shift were going to suck, but at least he had a text to look forward to whenever he did get off. Like he expected-and, maybe; just maybe, he brought it upon himself for believing it would-the rest of his work shift dragged on slowly until finally he closed up shop and headed home on his bike.

    When he arrived home, he slung his jacket on the nearby couch and stripped down into his briefs once more as he entered his room. He wasted no time brushing his teeth and washing his face before sinking into his loving bed and checked his phone for any texts. There was a slew of texts waiting for him in his inbox; apparently Nyota or Scotty-probably both-had spread the word about Spock and now the whole gang had blown up his phone. He didn’t look at any of them though, his focus was spent on the single new text from a new number.

    He opened it quickly, smiling into his sheets as he read,

**Hello Jim, this is Spock, reporting back to you to make you aware of the fact that I have made it home without trouble as you so thoughtfully requested. I look forward to collaborating with you regarding the locational details our date and bid you a ‘good night’.**

    He smiled a little wider at the choice of words Spock decided to use regarding their dinner as he read it. A date. Spock had willingly and readily called it a ‘date’. He’d reply in the morning; thank him for following through with his request and use that as a conversation starter to lead to where they were going to eat on Saturday.

    Perfect.

    He re-read the text for a fourth time before plugging it up into the wall charger and closed his eyes, letting his exhaustion lull him to sleep. When he did wake up for the day, it wasn’t his alarm that did it, but his hunger. He turned over onto his back sluggishly, hand splaying across his stomach as it continued to growl persistently at him. He rubbed his stomach idly to calm it down but that only seemed to make him feel hungrier.

    “Shut up.” He murmured uselessly into the empty room. His stomach quieted for a second before letting out a low, prolonged growl again that felt an awful lot like retaliation until he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

    “Okay, what do you want?” Jim glanced down at his stomach, “pancakes?” he pursed his lips, waiting a tick before announcing “Pancakes it is then.”

    He grabbed his phone, slipped into some sweats, and padded to the kitchen with a bounce in his step as he opened his phone’s messaging system to answer some of the texts he’d received last night-most of which was through a group message comprised of his friends.

    “Oh, this ought to be good.” Jim muttered sarcastically to himself.

**J.T. when’s the wedding?? -Gaila**

**I’m going to be the best man since I’m the reason you met, right? 0:)– Pasha**

**Oh, please Chekov, you’re def going to be the flower boy xD . – Scotty**

**TRUE – Gaila**

**If anyone is going to be best man, it’s going to be Leonard let’s be honest. – Hikaru**

**TRUEEE -Gaila**

**Aw, shucks. - Bones**

    Jim could practically feel the sarcasm radiating off that one and he bit his lip as he envisioned his friend's trademark scowl.

**But seriously Jim, tell us what happened when we left! – Nyota**

    Jim placed the phone down onto the counter, blushing furiously. His friends were a real gaggle of jokesters, but he knew they meant well. He could take some teasing, and when he was full of delicious pancakes, he’d tease them back. But only until after the pancakes. He nearly burnt the first one, but by the fourth he’d gotten his timing just right and sat down to his table with a plate of vanilla spiced pancakes, drowning them in syrup before digging in with gusto. Once he cleaned up after himself he picked up his phone and pursed his lips before finally typing out a reply to his friends.

**We’re thinking of an Autumn wedding, thanks for asking. – Jim**

    He didn’t expect anyone to answer just yet, so he took the next fifteen minutes to shower and bring up some study material for one of his upcoming finals before looking at his phone again. When he did, he bit back a smirk.

**I CALLED IT – Gaila**

**Har, har Jimbo. – Bones**

**Yeah, it’s never too early to crack a joke. After Nyota and Scott left we talked and he asked me out for dinner, that’s it. -Jim**

**Dinner, huh? Boy’s hungry ;) – Gaila**

**I can’t believe I just woke up to reading that… (-__-)  – Hikaru**

    Jim laughed into his empty apartment, gathered up his study notes, and hunkered down at his desk. He silenced the messaging notification option on his phone and kept the phone call notification option loud so he wouldn’t miss any important phone calls before focusing his mind on all the material he’d learned over his last semester. His studies included firstly, Vulcan poetry on nature, expanding minute details and glorifying mathematical influence in the physical world, followed up by Orion short stories highlighting the follies of emotional repression and explored the intricate and symbolic nature of sex. The latter half of his semester focused on Trill autobiographies that spanned centuries and only continued to grow in age thanks to the passage of hosts and ended with a select few classic Terran writers such as Shakespeare, Bacon, Homer, and Plato.

    He was just going over his notes regarding “The Allegory of the Cave” when his phone rang, the caller I.D. showing that it was his Mother calling. He let the papers flutter out of his hands and onto the table before swiping the phone and pressing the ‘answer’ button.

    “Yellow?” He drawled, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he listened to his Mother let out an airy chuckle,

    “Hey baby, can you talk? I know you’re about to take on finals…”

    “Of course, Mom.” Jim replied assuredly as he slouched into the sofa, “What’s up?”

    “Well, besides the fact that my baby’s getting a degree?” Winona Kirk cooed into the phone, and Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes because he just _knew_ that if he did, she would _know_ , “it looks like your brother’s bringing his fiancée to Commencement so you can meet her.”

    Jim raised a brow at that, “Really? I look forward to that.”

    “And _I’m_ looking forward to taking a thousand photos of you in your cap and gown!”

    “Mom, just try not to embarrass me in front of my friends, okay?” Jim groaned.

    “Of course, Honey. So, enough about that. How’ve you been? Has it struck you yet-the fact that you’re graduating?” She sounded thrilled, but her excitement only drained him. Jim closed his eyes and sighed into the receiver,

    “I’ve not really thought about it-haven’t let myself, really.”

    “Oh, sweetheart,” Winona murmured, “you know Iowa is always there for you if you need to come home.”

    “No-it’s not that; Bones and I are going to be rooming together so I’m covered housing wise, and I’ve still got the job at the ‘Roads.”

    “But what about your degree?” Mrs. Kirk pressed, “Don’t you want to do something more than bartending?”

    Jim sighed into the receiver, “Well, yeah-”

    “Have you begun applying to-”

    “I got offered an internship yesterday.” Jim blurted, biting his lip as his Mother let out a small excited gasp.

    “Really? Where?”

    “Grayson Incorporated.”

    “Wonderful! Well, that sounds wonderful anyway.” Winona paused before looking it up on her phone and put her son on speaker, eyebrows raising to her hairline, “Okay, woah, that is indeed wonderful.”

    “You’re looking at it right now aren’t you?” Jim deadpanned.

    “Yep! You gonna take the offer?”

    “Well…”

    “What?”

    “The thing is, the CEO asked me himself.”

    “Really? How’d you get the CEO’s attention?” Winona quipped, adding with a sly tone, “did you wow em’ with your looks?”

   Jim laughed nervously into the receiver, “Yeah-um, basically.”

    Winona gasped on the other end of the line and Jim quickly rushed to continue before she started teasing him, “I mean, he kind of asked me out to dinner last night.”

   "He 'kind of' asked you out to dinner? How did he _'kind of'_ ask-"

   "Okay so that was terrible wording." Jim sighed, curling in on himself, "he most definitely did ask me out to dinner."

   "You don't sound very excited Jimmy." Winona pressed, furrowing her brows, "Is he not a good man?"

   "No! I mean, I don't think he's a bad guy-he seems nice, honestly. It's just.." he trailed off, chewing his lip, "I just don't know him from Adam, Ma."

   "I didn't know your Father from Adam either, baby-that's why you go on dates in the first place." Winona remarked soothingly.

    He couldn’t argue with her logic.

    “You make a good point Ma. It’s just…” He trailed off once more and sucked in a deep, audible breath but didn’t say anything else.

    Now with her “Mommy Senses” tingling, Winona Kirk lowered her voice, desperately wishing she could see his face and reach out to him, "James, Honey, what are you so afraid of?"

_‘I’m afraid of the past repeating itself. I’m afraid he’ll see just how undesirable I am like before. I’m afraid he’ll raise my hopes up, sweep me off my feet, and then drop me once he realizes just how heavy I am like the last guy. I’m afraid I’ll fall head over heels only to realize that it’s entirely one-sided. I’m afraid-_

    “Me, afraid?” Jim guffawed, “Pssh! Since when!”

    Winona rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay honey. When were you planning to go on this date?”

    “Saturday after my finals. He wanted to work around my schedule.” Jim explained.

    “He sounds like a good man to me so far.” She quipped, “Where you going to go eat?”

    “Um, well, I still need to text him and ask.” Jim answered sheepishly.

    “Jimmy! What are you doing wasting time talking to your Ma for? Go talk to him!” Winona exclaimed, grin plastered across her face.

    “But Ma-”

    “Don’t ‘but Ma’ me, boy. I’ve already told you nearly all that you needed to hear from me already.”

    Jim furrowed his brows, “Nearly?”

    “Well, the last important thing I needed to tell you besides your brother’s bringing his fiancée and I can’t wait to take pictures of you is ‘I love you’.” She answered softly, closing her eyes. If she imagined hard enough, her baby boy was right there with her. She imagined hugging him and patting him on the back and decided she could wait until after flying in to shower him in hugs and praise.

    “Love you too Mom.” Jim replied graciously, “Bye.”

    “Bye baby.”

    He hung up, smile lingering on his face as he gazed down at his phone, fingers dancing across the screen to message Spock back.

    **Dear Spock**

    _‘Hell no that sounds pathetic’_

**Hey Spock**

_‘That sounds way too casual’_

He stared at the screen for about a minute before comprising a new message, muttering ‘fuck it’ to himself and sent it before he could convince himself to delete what he wrote and bit his lip as he picked up the notes he’d been studying earlier without actually looking at the words.

*

    Spock sat cross-legged on his meditation matt as he mentally wandered the hallways of his mind palace, sorting through the thoughts of last night and placing them in mental containers to revisit at another time. He breathed steadily, deeply, as he suppressed his senses while he constructed a new room in his mind, the door to the room marked with ‘Jim’ in bold, scripted letters. It was a small room, with not much in it but the containers of thoughts he’d processed and manufactured the night before, the physical description of the man in question, and the bits of knowledge he’d acquired from what little time they’d spent together.

    He had no doubt that the room had potential to grow. He didn’t know what to do with that thought, so he dumped it into the container that was rapidly growing in the center of Jim’s room within his mind. He left the room, keeping the door shut but not unlocked before walking down the corridor and stopping short in front of the wing of his palace that withheld all his knowledge of his home planet’s customs. Spock frowned slightly before heading down the wing and paused in front of the mental book case he’d constructed when he was about seventeen of all the books he’d ever read and found worthy enough to store inside his mind.

    One book in particular beckoned him and he pulled it out, frown deepening as he read the title; _‘Surviving and Fulfilling One’s Responsibilities During Pon Farr: A Guide’_. His 27th birthday was fast approaching in the next couple of months, as the receptionist from the night before had so dutifully reminded him, marking his seventh year of maturity. He’d need to mate or fight, and while Spock didn’t like the idea of being forced to do either, he’d much rather experience pleasure than pain if given the choice-although he was quite aware that sometimes the two were intricately intertwined. Not in this case, however.

    Making matters worse, the Council undoubtedly was planning for him to marry as soon as he returned to Vulcan, putting both he and T’Pring in a rather sticky situation that neither wanted to be in. Neither could use incompatibility as a basis for annulling the bond because they _did_ , which meant that they had to rely on another method. He could out himself to the Council, but that would only lead to him getting reassigned to someone of his preferred gender which could take too long given the delicate time schedule Spock was dealing with. That was okay though-he had a plan.

    If they-T’Pring and he- could convince the Council that he was an inferior option to mate with for T’Pring, then maybe- _just maybe-_ the prudent purist side of the Council could be appealed to and the marriage could be prevented and the bond broken. The plan stood a rather good chance of working-right up there in the 60% probability of success. Unfortunately, there was that pesky 40% chance of it failing that haunted him. However, he had a plan for that too.

    The sound of his phone chirruping next to him broke him from his trance and he slowly opened his eyes to land on the device before picking it up. He had set a timer on his phone to prevent any and all distractions by muting his notifications until said timer ran out, allowing him to keep track of time. He raised a brow at the banner on his phone announcing that he’d received a text from none other than the object of his current ponderings before opening the new message.

    **Good morning Spock, it’s Jim. Thank you so much for letting me know you got home safe- it meant a lot. Anyway! When you find the time, let me know if you come up with a specific restaurant you’d like to go to. Or if you have a question for me. Or just want to talk. That’s cool too. I look forward to your reply-again, when you’ve got the time.**

    In the confines of his sanctuary, he allowed himself to smile.

Jim sucked on a dried mango chip as he took a break from studying and sighed into the back of his hand that hadn’t moved from covering his eyes since he decided to sprawl out on the couch. The back of his eyelids swam with names, words, and imagery that his overactive brain generously supplied him regarding the required reading. He’d just started fantasizing about ancient Greeks and sailing the seas with Odysseus when his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He begrudgingly removed his hand from his face and dug into the pocket, retrieving his phone and stared at the new text notification before a huge grin split across his face.

**Good morning to you as well, Jim. Despite the desire to ‘just talk’ as you have put it, I am sure you are busy studying for your finals so I must ask to postpone until our dinner. Speaking of, does ‘Carrabba’s’ work for you?**

**Yeah, you got me there, huh? Carrabba’s works for me! I look forward to it : )**

**As do I. For now, I shall leave you to your studying. I look forward to you telling me how your finals went. Until then, I believe the correct saying is “good luck”. I’m sure you don’t need it, but I have been told it is best to ‘cover all my bases’.**

    Jim chuckled as he typed back,

**Thanks Spock. Talk later.**

    Spock pocketed his phone and stood up slowly before stalking over to his laptop. Jim wasn’t the only one who had work to do, after all. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I'm not being paid to mention "Carrabbas", I just really like that place. It's rad.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see by the "1/?" next to the "Chapters" section, it looks like I am indeed continuing this fricker since a good number of y'all were kind enough to encourage me to do so in le comment section. Bless y'all <3
> 
> Having said that, I have some announcements to make-just a few, I assure you.
> 
> 1\. Each chapter title will correspond with a song title (and the artist) that is in the playlist I've come up with that can be found here, (if you're interested) through this link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBkcZhyBWeqIHahClsa-Az9Wd7RfAG4VB
> 
> Please let me know if the link doesn't work for some reason so I can fix it. I personally love playlists, and for those of you who do too, this is for you.
> 
> 2\. Friendly reminder that this is not Beta'd, and all mistakes are mine (Mine! I tell you, ALL MINE).
> 
> 3\. The rating may possibly go up to 'Explicit', if I somehow buck up and learn how to write sex better (hahahahaha I'm Asexual). I'll do my best.
> 
> 4\. There will be foreign words involved (Uhura is in this fic, so ofc there will be, the Queen gotta demonstrate her linguistic prowess. Also she's not the only one who can speak other languages). Having said that, I'll make sure to include translations in the end notes of every chapter telling you what was said and try to include context clues so that you can get an idea (cross my fingers here) of what is being said in the moment.
> 
> 5\. Are there specific things y'all would like to see? I've got a storyline in mind, but am open to small snippets/scenes that y'all wanna see between the characters if I can work em' in there.
> 
> 6\. For those of you who will be following this, I wanna hear your thoughts-what I'm doing well, what I'm not doing well, what you thought was funny/smooth/etcetera. Alrightie, that's all the announcements I've got.


End file.
